Ilarian’s Note: This is my second assignment, and it’s just a preview to going after my next targets…Anyway, Gwen needs to die, and Agent Ilarian is reporting for duty. If you have a sordid interest in reading really, really terrible badfic, then here you go:
If you happened to be anywhere near a certain room one fine afternoon, you would have discovered a certain PPC agent sprawled on her bed looking somewhat smug, with her iPod playing Evanescence loudly. She fiddled with a rip on her bedspread she hadn’t bothered to repair.
As a matter of fact, this agent was Ilarian, fresh off her first killing, and it had felt good. To reward herself, she ate several pieces of chocolate and upped the ante on her Pod. She’d gotten it for Christmas and was now keen on trying out the blocking effects of music on horribly cheesy Sue-dialogue.
Ilarian was hoping to get a little time off, although she knew how unlikely that was. Sues spawned almost daily, more like hourly, and she knew that in the blissful hour or so she’d had off, there were probably a thousand more.
“Bloody things just hatch like mad,” Ilarian said, sitting up. She switched Evanescence off and thought that maybe she ought to get a drink and then report back for duty –
Ilarian whirled. Her poor computer sounded as if it was in genuine agony. She switched off the sound before the speakers could blow out, then bent down to examine the damage.
She sighed. “Ugh. It’s a Sue, all right, but when are they not? Gwen, huh? Boromir’s sister? Aaagh!”
That was it. Rest time was officially over. Ilarian grabbed her Sue-killing kit and strapped it around her waist. Then she gathered a potholder in the very likely event that her CAD overheated, and made sure that her pistol was freshly loaded.
Everything was in order. Ilarian quickly typed in the coordinates, waited, and then stepped through the open portal into –
WHAM! Chapter One hit her over the head like a bulldozer.
There was a lost tale told over a hundred years ago. It was about the fellowship of nine that protected a hobbit that bore evil. The only thing they didn't tell was that there were really ten.
“Maybe because there weren’t, you twit,” Ilarian snarled. Tenth-walker stories drove her berserk. Fortunately, this one was better than ‘Regretts’ if only because the ‘Suethor knew very, very basic grammar.
Maybe they didn't tell because the tenth was a woman.
“Aaaargh! Isn’t it always?” Ilarian muttered, scribbling away. “Meddling with established canon, creating a gratuitous character – okay, Ilarian. Calm down. It’s just going to get worse.”
Gwen was her name. She was hotly spoken; unlike the women of that time. She was a beautiful as a rose. Her skin was pale and her lips a dark ruby red. Her eyes were bluer then the sky, and her hair darker than the depths of the ocean, and very long. She was probably more courageous than any man on this living earth. She was the sister of Boromir son of Denothor. Oh! So you want to here the story of this courageous person? Well then come, let me tell you the story of Gwen daughter of Gondor.
“Beautiful as a rose, eyes bluer than the sky, hair darker than the depths of the ocean, got it,” Ilarian added. She was becoming very good at talking to herself. “Let’s add Extreme!Sueness, bad metaphor, and sickly-sweet flowery language to the charge list. Not to mention the misspelling of ‘Denethor,’ inventing a sister where none such exists, and no, I don’t want to ‘here’ the story, I want to kill the…er…witch.”
Since that seemed, rather abruptly, to conclude the so-called Chapter One, Ilarian steeled herself and pulled on her Ranger disguise – leather tunic, boots, and a helm that covered her face. “After that Sue,” she said. “Now!”
Her wish was granted. Ilarian slammed through into Chapter Two, noting on the way down that the story began in Osgiliath after Frodo left the Shire. To her extreme shock, all three words were spelled correctly. She nearly had to take some Bleeprin just for that, then rammed into a wall and landed just out of sight of the Sue and friends.
Rubbing her head, somewhat dazed, Ilarian looked up, mentally reminding herself to always look where she was going when she was headed full blast into bad transitions.
She was sitting on a street in Osgiliath. Not too far away, the Sue was promptly managing to beat Boromir at swordplay. Ilarian sighed and peered around the edge to see exactly how painful it was.
“Your catching on, Gwen,” Boromir said as he moved to the left avoiding his sister’s blow.
“What do you mean catching on? I’m already there,” said Gwen with a cunning smile as she knocked her brother’s sword to the ground.
Now the tip of her sword was aimed at his throat. She laughed then pulled it away. “I agree,” Boromir was now getting up off the ground rubbing his neck when suddenly a man came running towards them. “Faramir, what wrong?” Boromir asked his voice in a panic.
“Haven’t you ever heard of commas?” Ilarian moaned. As a self-proclaimed Grammar Stickler, this was one of the things that irked her most about Sues. Besides everything else too.
“And how can Boromir ask his voice something?” she added.
Faramir proceeded to deliver the extremely abrupt problem.
Faramir caught his breath than proceeded to tell them. “Orcs are approaching the river!”
Boromir quickly gave out his orders. “Send all the men to the river. Do not be seen,” then he turned to Gwen. “Ready your horse and make for Minas Tirith!”
“No, let me fight. You know better than I that I can do this!” Gwen pleaded.
Boromir looked discouraged at her. “No, I will not risk you life. Go now!” and with that he headed to the river.
“Why was she even in Osgiliath?” Ilarian muttered, running along behind Boromir as he wandered toward the river. As she went, she whipped out her CAD, put on the potholder just in case, and pointed it at Boromir.
[Boromir. Human male. Son of Denethor. Canon. OOC 47.541%.]
“Whew, thought it would be worse,” Ilarian grumbled. While she was not a Boromir-fancier, or a Faramir-fancier either, she got mad when people started messing with the Brothers of Gondor. (Note; Brothers. No sisters.)
Boromir suddenly stopped, as his head had briefly cleared from the Sue’s influence. He stood there with a faint look of puzzlement on his face, looked at the sword in his hand, and was clearly heard to say, “What am I doing?”
As the Orcs only existed under the Sue’s influence, they were safe enough for the moment. Ilarian grabbed Boromir by the shoulder and said, out of breath from running, “That girl is an evil creature of dark sorcery.”
Boromir blinked. “Girl…sister…Gwen…nice girl…”
Ilarian gave him a good shake to snap him out of it, but she sensed it was already too late. The Sue’s influence had already started to cover him again. The Orcs reappeared.
“Damn it!” Ilarian swore, and whirled away. The Orcs came barreling toward them. It was ugly, and getting worse.
Gwen readied Warrior, her horse, and headed in the opposite direction of Boromir. Warrior moved fast under her. He mind was racing like her horse’s hooves on the ground. She was in a panic. Her mind was clouded. She couldn’t think. She was scared for her brothers. Faramir was an inexperienced fighter; though she knew Boromir would look after him. Yet, the battle that Boromir went into could have been his last. She just knew that she had to help them. She was worried. Maybe I can help. Yes, that would be good, she thought to herself. Her mind set to work. She was ready, and she knew it. She had a plan, and she was going to go for it.
“Yeah, she has a plan? And she’s turning Faramir into a wimp?” Ilarian got very angry. If you monkeyed with either of the Brothers, but Faramir especially, she was ready to kill you. This was also apparently an extremely stupid Sue – well, stupider than normal, at any rate. Maybe I can help. Yes, that would be good. Indeed.
Ilarian ran after the Sue as fast as she could, but then suddenly she disappeared. Ilarian had just enough time to curse again before – BAM! She hit the spatial wrench and went flying head over heels.
Then she reached the broad iron gates of Minas Tirith they opened. She set to work.
“Still no commas! Agh! And to the best of my knowledge, Minas Tirith does not have iron gates!” Ilarian was extremely breathless as she chugged along, although that was more from cursing than running. She had just figured out that she had hit a wrench to Minas Tirith when…
WHAM! Another wrench! Ilarian, now just as dazed as poor Boromir, went flying backwards and smashed into the very wall in Osgiliath that had greeted her so politely before. Except now, Orcs were filling the place up, and Wimpy!Faramir was being spectacularly OOC (79.055%, according to the now-smoking CAD.)
“We are losing men fast, Boromir. What are we going to do?” Faramir was in a panic. The men where dying. When he was just about to lost his guard a creature with gray and black skin, and a twisted evil looking face came around the corner. When Boromir saw the creature he beheaded it.
“I will not give up Osgiliath so easily. Keep fighting and do not loose hope,” Boromir said while giving his brother's shoulder a tight squeeze.
Ilarian scrambled up a tower above the Orcs’ heads, pulled herself into a small chamber, and balanced her notepad on the wall as she wrote. “Turning Faramir into an utter wimp…misusing grammar, making astoundingly obvious statements,..”
The tower shook as some of the Sue-summoned Orcs started bombarding it. “Time to go, I think,” Ilarian started, but before she could even think of climbing down, the third spatial wrench in about as many lines hit her, and she went flying back to Minas Tirith like a squawking parachute.
Ilarian was so dazed that she had to sit there muttering incoherently about the dangers of PPCing before she could finally regain her senses. When she had, she immediately wished she hadn’t. The Sue was striking away in fine form.
Gwen was now standing in front of two guards. “Make haste through all of the city. Send every able bodied solider to ready there horse. We make for Osgiliath in one hour. Clear?” The guards shook their heads in agreement.
Gwen was now knocking on a wooden door. Just then a woman about five foot two. She opened the door. When she saw Gwen was dressed in armor she let her in. the girl had brownish blonde hair and gray eyes. She had a look on her grief and sadness. “Your going to fight aren’t you?” she asked while looking into Gwen’s eyes.
“You don’t shake your head in agreement!” Ilarian howled, charging up the steps after the Sue, past the guards, who were well off the chart in terms of being perplexed.
Ilarian gritted her teeth as she slammed into yet another wrench. “My Eru, hasn’t this writer ever heard of transitions?” she moaned, as she was dumped into a dizzy heap by the door, which the writer had to note was wooden.
Just then a woman, who may or may not have been five feet two tall, opened the door. Her hand shaking, Ilarian aimed the CAD at the new Sue over Gwen’s perfectly silky hair, which of course was not mussed from the ride.
She immediately dropped it as it began to smoke and hiss. [Samantha. Human female. Possibly. Non-canon/Mary-Sue.]
“Great, now there are two of them,” Ilarian whimpered, affecting her best Star Wars evil-viceroy voice.
‘Samantha’ suddenly got happy when Gwen tearfully begged her to fight. Then she managed to smile up to her eyes.
Yes,” Gwen answered. “But I want you fighting by my side. Will you come Samantha?” Gwen’s look was pleading, and desperate.
Just then Samantha’s face grew happy, and she smiled up to her eyes. “I would. When do we leave?”
“That psycho-witch is really getting to me,” Ilarian puffed, as she more or less fell down an endless flight of steps after the Sues. “I really need to get a raise for all – these – damn – AAAH!”
Pity her. Ilarian hit another wrench. This time she wanted to just sit whimpering, but that would be running the risk of letting the Sue escape. With one hand waving around in the air, looking vaguely like a rude sign, Ilarian popped several Bleeprin before daring to stand up.
Sam met up with Gwen at the front gate. “Are you frightened?” Sam asked.
“I think the question is are you?” Gwen said trying to cheer up her friend for she could see sadness spreading.
“Why in the world would they be frightened?” Ilarian said, voice overdosing on sarcasm. “Maybe because they’re Sues who suddenly developed fighting ability? Ooh, that’s it.”
Sam looked around then turned to Gwen, “So, these are your soldiers?” Sam then added sarcastically, “If they are then they are a sad excuse for one.”
“Yes, this is the first time that Gondor has had one giant soldier,” Ilarian mocked. She was hidden in the back of the soldier that had suddenly appeared as Samantha and Gwen proceeded to suck at pep-talking.
Just about two minutes later Gwen had the troops lined up outside. “Men of Gondor, I am your captain. Just because I am a woman, and my right hand is a woman doesn’t mean we are cutting you slack. We will go full charge to Osgiliath. I want archers firing about a mile before we get there. You will send those foul beast back were they came from. Back to the land they call home. They are not welcome here. You will make them retreat like pansies. They attacked your country so what are you going to do?” she yelled.
“ATTACK BACK,” they responded.
“Good now let us show them that the people of Gondor are a force to be reckoned with.” She turned Warrior around, and started to charge.
“Yes, firing from a mile away really will help!” Ilarian screamed, so loudly that the soldier turned around and looked at her. “And I guess since we have just one soldier, we have a giant foul beast for him to fight?”
Gwen was in the process of charging, when suddenly Ilarian stepped out in front of her horse, so quickly that Gwen nearly pulled an Alula.
“Who are you?” the Sue asked uneasily.
“Death, honey.” Ilarian grinned and blew out a gust of garlic breath, having popped in a specially flavored mint just for the occasion.
Gwen tried to ignore this by putting in some perversely appropriate wording:
The counter attack had begun.
“Oh, if only you knew,” Ilarian said, grabbing the Suebeast that Gwen had been riding (another stallion, wouldn’t ya know it?) “If only you knew. I, my dear, am a PPC agent. And our job is to lead the counter-attack. So you are number two.”
Gwen choked. Ilarian pulled her off the horse, which, just like poor ol’ Magic, reared and plunged off, bowling over the soldier.
She pushed the Sue onto the ground and drew her pistol, then stepped over her and began to recite the verdict. “Gwen, you are charged with being a Mary-Sue, with having far more spatial wrenches than is ever needed, with inventing imaginary relatives for established characters, for misspelling of one such character’s name, with making Faramir a complete wimp, with misusing grammar, with dragging Orcs abruptly into the story so you can save the day, with putting another Sue into the story, and being another tenth walker.” Ilarian slammed the notepad shut viciously. “Sounds pretty damning. Anything to say?”
Gwen stared up at her from her perfect deep blue eyes. A part of the soldier (an armpit, maybe) half-heartedly attempted to stop this strange, obviously demented woman from attacking his lady, then paused. He didn’t remember having a lady. Nor a wimpy lord either, for that matter.
Samantha came running. Ilarian whirled expertly and put a bullet through her skull.
The Sue stopped, eyeballs skirling wildly as her pint-size brain attempted to cope with this new development, and keeled over backwards. The soldier was starting to look horrified that they’d nearly followed her and the other…creature.
Gwen started to get up, protesting that her father (Denothor) would save her. Ilarian didn’t give her a chance. She sighted, aimed, shot. Gwen toppled over and lay there twitching. Then she dissolved into a thick column of gray smoke that went shooting up and away.
Ilarian appropriated a proper horse (NOT a stallion) from one of the soldier, and went jolting off to Osgiliath like a sack of potatoes. She was excellent at killing Sues, but riding hadn’t exactly been in the curriculum.
She got off the horse, which was probably relieved to get rid of her, and went running up the steps, avoiding the wall that had taken a particular liking to her.
She rounded a corner, and there they were. Faramir and Boromir were standing with their swords out, staring at nothing, as since Gwen had gone, there were no more Orcs. To say the least, they were very confused.
Faramir shook his head wildly, looked up at Ilarian, and said warily, “Who are you? The last girl I saw somehow made me think that she was my sister…”
“She’s been dealt with,” Ilarian soothed. Behind her back, she hit them with the CAD. Even as she watched, Faramir’s OOC-ness was going down and returning to normal. The same went for Boromir.
“Where are the Orcs?” said Boromir.
“They had to do with the Sue – I mean, the girl,” said Ilarian. “And they’re gone.”
“If you say so.” Boromir sheathed his sword, and Faramir did as well. Then, still looking as if they thought Ilarian was going to tackle them and force them into another badfic, they turned and hurried off as fast as they could go.
Ilarian wiped her forehead, still feeling vaguely nauseous from all the wrenches, and allowed herself to feel relieved that another Mary-Sue had gotten what was coming to her. Only when she was sure that another one wasn’t coming for the moment did she punch in the numbers, and phased herself back to Base.
She sat down and immediately reported the incident in her log, then popped on her headphones, sat back, and fanned herself with a copy of the magazine Sue-Killing Today. “Another one done. Boy, one more fic with that many spatial wrenches and I’ll just send it to someone else.”
 Ilarian’s knowledge has its limits. As can be seen in The Return of the King, chapters one and four, the Great Gate of Minas Tirith was actually made of steel and iron.
 The original text "Just then the woman. She opened the door" may or may not have been a misguided attempt to parody the badfic. Anyway, I felt the urge to clarify the situation.]